Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Greenwood Cove (Sunshine Walkingstick, Book 1) by Celia Roman

Release date: February 3, 2017
Subgenre: Urban fantasy, folklore 

About Greenwood Cove


I had three loves in my life: my daddy, him what my mama killed in cold blood; my son Henry, God rest him; and tall as an oak Riley Treadwell.

I lost all of 'em, one way or t'other, 'til Riley showed up on my stoop with a monster problem and tried to wiggle his way back into my life.

Only, weren't no monster bothering him; was the one bothering his ex-girlfriend what'd stirred up a hornet's nest out on Lake Burton amongst the muckity mucks. Weren't no never mind to me, see? I was fine letting well enough alone, 'cept curiosity got the best of me, and Riley, well. He weren't above using that silver tongue of his to persuade me 'round to his way of thinking. If I'da listened to my gut, maybe I woulda avoided stepping knee deep into somebody else's trouble.

Then again, I ain't never been one to heed a warning when monsters come a-calling.

Author's Note: Greenwood Cove was written in the native dialect of the narrator, found in the rural areas of the Southern Appalachians. The grammar, spelling, and syntax are not standardized American English.


Harley Jimpson was sitting on the steps of my porch when I come home, his wrinkled face sagging in a forlorn frown. I sighed and invited him in for a glass of sweet tea. Long as Fame and Harley was friendly, I couldn’t get outta helping the other man, hang all. Fame was gonna get an earful, though, I sworn, soon as I could pin my uncle down.
I poured Harley some tea and settled into the chair behind my desk, my hand close enough to the .380 for easy pulling. Harley weren’t exactly a bad man, but he was slimy as an oil slick and about as trustworthy as a bear with an abscessed tooth.
He sipped his tea and smacked his lips. “Mighty fine tea, Miss Sunny.”
“Thank ye kindly. What can I do for you?”
His rheumy eyes took on a canny gleam. “Way I heard it, you was stepping out with the Sheriff’s son.”
I pressed my lips together. Hadn’t taken long a’tall for that rumor to spread and we hadn’t been on the first date. “Me and Riley go way back. Don’t mean we’re stepping out.”
“So you wouldn’ta heard none what he’s doing snooping around the water.”
“Matter of fact, he found what might be toxic waste dumped into the waterways near y’all. You might wanna keep you and yourn outta there for a while.”
Harley’s lips curled back in a snaggle-toothed grin. “You know an awful lot for somebody he ain’t stepping out with.”
“We’re friends,” I said, patient and even like. Friendly, anyhow, and I reckoned that was close enough where Riley was concerned. “You need something else?”
Harley’s expression hardened. “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?”
I inched my hand toward the hilt of the .380. “I got business, is all. Fame’s expecting me up his way soon. You know how he is about being on time.”
“I know Fame right well, little missy, maybe better’n you do.” Harley slapped his palms on his thighs and stood. “’Preciate the news.”
“Any time. Give your family my regards. Keep ‘em outta the water.”
“No worries there. Ain’t got a one what likes getting wet.”
I showed him out and locked the door behind him, and danged if my phone didn’t ring as soon as his car’s engine turned over. I picked it up and answered, and that was the last I thought on Harley Jimpson for a good, long while.



About Celia Roman:

Celia Roman lives in the mountains of Western North Carolina in an historic farmhouse built by her great-grandfather. Her stories are inspired by a natural interest in the paranormal and too many late night reruns of Supernatural.

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